The road to dinner is a spoon, the toilet is expensive to the night,
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Potato is good in ashes, and pineapple in champagne.
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Only in our country, for some reason, the whole order of things is confused,
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And the bottomless Russian turmoil has become the norm.
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Whatever a thief, then a high boss,
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Whatever nonsense, the law is emergency,
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It's scary to think where we will land
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On a similar wave.
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Chorus:
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Uncle Vova, where are the landings? |
What are strange orders?
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The richer the thief today, the blinder the prosecutor.
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Uncle Vova, where are the landings? |
Kolyma dug up the beds,
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And all honest people ask to sow the garden.
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Kittens wash, crocodile brushes teeth,
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Everyone knows who once passed Moidodyr.
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And in our country the parasites are rampant, they are cheering on the blood of the proletariat,
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They saw, chop, plan, chop, even endure the saints.
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And while the plague has not seized us, we must urgently end this business
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And engage fervently and boldly in the hygiene of Russia.
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Chorus:
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Uncle Vova, where are the landings? |
What are strange orders?
|
The richer the thief today, the blinder the prosecutor.
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Uncle Vova, where are the landings? |
Kolyma dug up the beds,
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And all honest people ask to sow the garden.
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A wise man does not walk uphill and does not spit in a well.
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She has been harnessing the sleigh since summer and does not drink water from her face.
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But now everything is not so clear;
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The more expensive for everyone, the more successful,
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And from the big national task - the fattest fat!
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Here is the premium over potholes and bumps
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To the non-returning critical point,
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Where the country will be torn to pieces under the salute of the Janissaries.
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Uncle Vova, where?
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Uncle Vova, where?
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Chorus:
|
Uncle Vova, where are the landings? |
What are strange orders?
|
The richer the thief today, the blinder the prosecutor.
|
Uncle Vova, where are the landings? |
Kolyma dug up the beds,
|
And all honest people ask to sow the garden. |